“I requested…” Kim thought back to their last conversation. “I said you owed me a cup of coffee if I kept your men from dying.”
“Yes, you did, and I promised I would get you all the paraphernalia for making a high-quality one.” Rache spread a hand toward the basket.
He had. If she hadn’t wanted him to do that, she should have said something back then, as she was getting off his shuttle. She hadn’t thought he’d follow through with that promise. And she certainly hadn’t expected him to come in person. He couldn’t have come all the way to Odin just for this. He had to have some business here. But what business could a mercenary possibly have on a planet with its own protection agencies capable of keeping the peace?
Idiot, she realized, rocking back. He was here because of Casmir. Because Casmir had hid that gate and, like everybody else, Rache wanted to know where.
Kim looked down at the basket, still tempted to give it back to him, afraid that accepting anything from him would only get her in trouble, especially here, in the capital city. In the heart of the Kingdom. There were security drones all over the place. One might be watching her balcony even now.
“You couldn’t have had it shipped?” she grumbled and went inside.
“Your heartfelt gratitude warms my soul.”
“Shut up, and come inside before someone sees you out there.”
Kim set the basket back down, flattened her hands onto the table, and leaned against them as she stared at it. She wished she hadn’t asked Rache for anything. Though she couldn’t help but think of the favor he’d offered her. Before, she’d thought she might ask him to redeem it by sharing everything he knew about his and Casmir’s genes. But now, with Casmir perhaps in a dungeon cell and herself a prisoner with only slightly more freedom, should she ask for help getting out of their current predicament? But what kind of help could he offer? He had resources—an entire ship full of mercenaries—at his disposal, but it wasn’t as if he could park them on the castle lawn and force Jager to release Casmir. The entirety of the planet’s defenses would mobilize if the Fedallah even appeared in orbit.
“It’s not a bomb,” Rache offered.
“No, I didn’t think it was.”
“And it’s not booby-trapped, but I can open it for you, if you’ll feel safer.”
She frowned darkly at the basket.
“If this is your typical reaction to gifts, I can’t imagine that men feel compelled to deliver them to you often.”
“That’s… not untrue. I usually tell people not to give me gifts, because then I feel socially compelled to reciprocate, and I don’t know what to get. I prefer practical presents and believe other people should too. But everyone I’ve given a practical gift to has seemed confused. I’ve gotten Casmir numerous books on cleaning and organization, full of advice which he clearly needs, and yet he always seems puzzled. One even had illustrations and was structured like a comic book.”
“Does he give you practical gifts?”
“No.”
“Do you scrutinize his gifts this thoroughly and with such a disapproving expression?”
“More thoroughly and with more disapproval, usually.” Kim tugged at her ponytail. “He has a fondness for the ridiculous.”
“Ah.”
Rache clasped his hands behind his back and strolled to the bookcase. Kim wondered if that meant he hadn’t perused it while he’d been waiting for her to return. Maybe he’d brought in the gift, set it down, and retreated outside to wait, somehow seeing that as less of a trespass.
Kim unfastened the tasteful metallic gift paper, assuming he’d had it professionally done and hadn’t wrapped it himself. Something about the idea of the infamous criminal Captain Tenebris Rache being a practiced gift-giver was ludicrous.
“On Casmir’s last gift,” Kim said, finding the silence awkward, “the wrapping paper featured Robot Remstar chasing a robot cat chasing a robot mouse chasing a piece of cheese hanging out of Robot Remstar’s back pocket.”
“That’s either goofy and immature or a poignant philosophical statement about the eternal quest for achievement being forever plagued by the threat of destruction.”
“Probably the former, though he might have considered the latter. He’s not as simple as he pretends to be.” Kim withdrew a high-end espresso maker from the basket. Damn it, it was beautiful. And her mother’s apartment didn’t have one, so she’d been getting lattes from a kiosk on the way to the lab. She also found beans from a local roaster with a good reputation, cups, a tamper, a steaming pitcher, and a grinder with settings sufficient for the fine grind that espresso required.
“I wouldn’t imagine so.” Rache pulled a book from the shelf and opened it, but he looked over his shoulder at her. “Since I’m wondrously complicated.”
She had the sense that he smiled as he said that, but with the mask, who knew? Maybe it was better not to know. If he was flirting and she knew it, she would find his presence here that much more alarming. But she suspected he had chiefly come in the hope of getting Casmir’s location, or maybe even the location of the gate, from her.
“No doubt.” Kim held up the bag of beans. “Thank you. They’re excellent choices, and I will use them.” Because she deserved them after dealing with his kidnapping and being pressured while she hunted for a solution to their problem. Not because of any fondness or appreciation toward him. His thugs had killed Fleet marines when they’d kidnapped her. She would not feel anything toward him except the hope that the Kingdom caught up with him one day and delivered the punishment he deserved.
“Good.” Rache turned, lowering the book in his hand. “I also, as I recall, promised you a favor. Do you need it redeemed at this time?”
“No,” she said, even though she had been thinking of requesting his help.
If he was only here because he wanted information about Casmir, she wouldn’t give him a reason to linger.
“Ah?”
Surely, it was only in her imagination that he sounded disappointed.
“Well, if you change your mind, this is my comm information for my ship.” Rache stepped forward and set a card with nothing but a code on it on the table. “They’ll put you through to me. I don’t plan to be in the area longer than it takes to gather some information, so it would be preferable if you thought of your favor sooner rather than later. But there’s no moratorium on it. It just may be more difficult to fulfill when I’m several weeks and a wormhole jump away.”
Gather information. That had to refer to getting the gate location from Casmir.
She shivered when she imagined him showing up for Casmir with a gun instead of a gift. But if Casmir was truly in a cell in the castle, he ought to be safe from pirates of all sorts. He probably had more to worry about from the king right now.
Unfortunately, Kim didn’t find that comforting.
“I understand,” she said.
Rache hesitated, as if he expected her to say more or change her mind. Or was he considering asking her about Casmir?
He lifted the book. “I’ll just put this back and head out.”
Kim’s heart forgot to beat. It was the first novel in the fantasy trilogy she’d written and published a few years earlier. How could he have known? There was no public information linking her to the pen name and vice versa. She’d made sure of it because she hadn’t wanted it to impinge on her bacteriology career. If he’d found out…
“I was surprised to find the trilogy here.” Rache returned the book to the shelf. “It’s a relatively obscure author, even here in the Kingdom. Have you read him, by chance?”
Him? Kim stared at the back of Rache’s hood as he tucked the book next to the other two in the trilogy. Her pen name was just initials, so the gender wouldn’t be obvious, but it hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would assume the books had been written by a man.
“If your mother were here—did you get her back into working order?—I’d be trying to interrogate her for information, since the books are signed. I
presume they’ve met. I’ve been expecting another series for some time, but…” He shrugged and turned around. “Maybe they didn’t sell well enough to satisfy the publisher.”
Kim rushed to wipe off whatever panic or alarm might have been on her face and forced out a calm, “Probably,” along with a nod. “And, yes, Casmir was able to repair her damage.”
“Good. Enjoy the coffee.” Rache pointed to the balcony. “I’ll see myself out. If you’re going to report my presence to your bodyguards, I’d appreciate it if you gave me a few minutes head start.”
“You… expect me to do that? Report you?” she asked as he walked toward the door.
“I was careful not to leave fingerprints or show my face to any cameras, but it’s possible an attentive Kingdom Guard with more than three brain cells could guess my identity. If you wish to ensure you’re not suspected of inviting me here, raising an alarm would be wise. It would make my continued movements on Odin more difficult, but that’s nothing I’m unaccustomed to.”
He paused in the doorway, bowed like a knight, then sprang over the balcony railing, presumably activating his jet boots before plummeting to his death.
Kim stared out the door for a long moment after he disappeared, befuddled by the meeting. She was puzzled because he hadn’t asked her for Casmir’s whereabouts or if she knew where the gate was located. And she was flummoxed that it sounded like he’d read her books. She didn’t think she’d ever met anyone who’d read them. Even her most supportive friend, Casmir, had fallen asleep when she’d read passages aloud to him.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she muttered. “He’s still what he is.”
She picked up the comm card and thought about ripping it up. But no, she might need that favor if Casmir couldn’t figure out how to get out of the castle on his own. She hoped he could. She would prefer to have Rache owing her a favor rather than the other way around.
9
Casmir lay in the blackness of the cell, his chip the only reason he knew how much time had passed. He’d slept, woken, slept, and woken, the darkness throwing off his body clock. Several times, he’d been delivered food by a drone he’d been tempted to capture and try to reprogram, but without his tools, he doubted he’d even be able to get the lid off to poke around inside.
With nothing else to do, he’d been working almost obsessively—no, he admitted, obsessively, there being no almost about it—on his self-assigned robot bee project. Stored on his chip, he had numerous books and articles about the latest developments in robotics and engineering, and there was always Talmud study to catch up on, but this project—this challenge—was the only thing that occupied his mind enough to serve as a true distraction.
He’d contemplated how to dress up his hypothetical robot insects to look like authentic bees and how they could be powered by the same light source that gave life to the trees and plants they would help pollinate. He had also attempted to anticipate all manner of errors and problems that might arise, then recorded several pages of suggestions to address them. He’d done everything short of building them, but since they were based on the same technology he’d used for his robot bird, he believed that part would be relatively simple, especially if he had access to all the tools in his research lab on campus.
But would he ever have access to his lab again?
The fact that he’d told that Intelligence officer everything he knew and was still being held unnerved him. He’d assumed they needed time to send a Fleet ship to check the coordinates and find the cargo vessel, which would be difficult with that stealth generator engaged, but he’d shared everything he remembered about that too. Surely, some smart military officer would come up with a way to locate the ship. Eventually.
Would he die of old age first? No, Asger, wherever he had gone, had promised him a meeting with the queen. If he could be believed, she would return the next day. But would anyone tell her where he was? Was Asger anywhere near the castle?
Casmir grimaced at the idea of the queen coming down to this part of the castle and seeing—and smelling—him. He longed for a hot shower, a bristly scrub brush, a toothbrush, and beard removal gel.
He sneezed three times, and moisture leaked from his left eye. And antihistamines. He dearly longed for those too.
He wouldn’t have thought that anything in the bowels of a rocky bluff deep under a castle could cause an allergic reaction, but there was mildew or mold or something even more inimical growing in a dark, damp nook that bothered his senses and made him long for the sterility of the highly filtered Stellar Dragon.
The lights came on with the same abrupt blinding nature as before, and he yelped in surprise and covered his eyes. Footsteps sounded in the corridor. A lot of footsteps.
Casmir swung his feet to the floor and watched as armored guards trooped into view. Two, four, six, eight… There ended up being twelve packed shoulder to shoulder, all facing his cell from the opposite side of the corridor, the effect bordering on ludicrous.
Nerves pounded like a jackhammer in his stomach as he realized the implications. Would so many guards—bodyguards?—come down for anyone other than royalty? Surely not.
Was it crazy to hope the princess had heard he was down here and come to visit him? Yes. She had no way to know he had a bee project to share with her. One he was reasonably sure she didn’t want because she wanted real bees, and creating those was beyond his abilities. And beyond what the anti-genetic-engineering laws of the Kingdom allowed. He wondered if she was tinkering with the bees the same way the gardeners tinkered with crops, by selectively breeding for different traits.
The Intelligence officer who had questioned him two days before walked into view with an older female officer. She wore a nametag. Van Dijk. That was the chief superintendent, the head of Royal Intelligence, who had brought Kim in to speak with, wasn’t it?
Casmir opened his mouth to ask, but then King Jager walked into view.
He wore plain clothing, black trousers and a rich blue tunic, with neither the crown, scepter, nor purple fur-trimmed cloak that he wore for public occasions, but Casmir had seen his face often enough to recognize it, even half-blinded by the light and with tears weeping from his left eye. That eye blinked a few times on its own schedule.
Casmir dropped to one knee and bowed over it, as he’d seen Asger do for the princess, and used the motion to hide rubbing his face. He willed his eye to knock it off and for his nostrils to be strong, to refrain from sneezing through the bars and all over the king.
“Greetings, Your Majesty,” Casmir said without looking up. Unfortunately, that meant looking at the drain. He did his best not to dwell again on thoughts of blood from torture victims dribbling down it. “Thank you for coming to visit me in this most humble of domiciles. A temporary domicile, I do hope. Please let me know if I can be of service and perhaps win my freedom from—”
That was as far as he made it before the sneezes started. A whole chain of them that left both eyes watering. Alas, nobody stuck a handkerchief through the bars for him, so he was forced to sniff indignantly.
“He doesn’t look like a threat to king or Kingdom,” King Jager observed in a deep dry voice that reminded Casmir of Rache. Not the timbre but the affectation that the educated elite all seemed to have. Princess Oku had it, too, but it hadn’t sounded as pompous coming from her lips.
A puzzle piece that had been floating over its slot for a long time clicked into place for Casmir. Rache had been raised here among the nobility. Maybe even among the royalty if Oku had known him. But she’d thought he was dead. Had he staged his death for some reason? And then changed his name and donned the mask so he couldn’t be recognized by Jager and his family?
“Not physically, Sire,” Van Dijk said. “But he’s the cause of all of our problems.”
“All?” Casmir lifted his head and focused on her, since there was probably a rule against making eye contact with a monarch. “That can’t be true. If it is, ruling a kingdom is vastly simpler than I was le
d to believe, and I’d like to apply immediately for a job on the staff.”
Van Dijk stared at him. So did Jager. Then Jager laughed.
It was such an unexpected response that Casmir rocked back in surprise, the flagstone floor grinding into his kneecap.
“What job would you apply for, Professor?” Jager asked.
“Court roboticist, of course. If that’s not currently a position, perhaps I could convince you of the merits of adding it.”
“We already have a jester, so it couldn’t be similar to that role. Do you imagine this roboticist would work with security?”
Casmir thought of the crushers he’d created to defend Odin and how they were now attacking stations in other systems, and he lost his willingness to banter with the king. “Perhaps,” was all he said.
“If I may, Sire?” The male Intelligence officer extended a hand toward Casmir. An electric shock baton hung from a clip on his belt, something he hadn’t worn on his first visit, and his eyes were hard and humorless as they regarded Casmir. “He may not look dangerous, but he was able to evade the truth drug.”
“What?” Casmir frowned at him.
“We had two ships search the coordinates and orbital trajectory you gave us. The cargo vessel isn’t there.”
Casmir lurched to his feet. “Are you sure? Do they realize how good the stealth technology is? They wouldn’t simply have been able to search for a heat signature.”
“Our best ships went. They sprayed a tracking chemical into the orbital path you gave us. The ship would have passed through it, and they would have found it. If it had been there.”
Casmir gripped his chin, aware of everyone watching him, including the king. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Was it possible some automated system had kicked in with instructions to take the ship home? He’d searched carefully through the navigation and autopilot computers when he’d been en route to Modi Moon, and he’d disabled communications to ensure none of the allies of the astroshamans could pop through System Lion’s gate and turn on a beacon to draw their lost ship home. But he hadn’t been that familiar with the technology. It was possible he’d missed something.
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